Different Kind of Knights
by Sunbird Riding Shotgun
Summary: They're not sure how it started, where it's going, or if they'll be able to make it work. What they do know is it's the best thing they've ever had to hold onto. Dom!Hardison/sub!Eliot/Parker!Parker
1. How We're Living Now

**Notes: **Just a little something inspired by some of the prompts I did. Warnings are for implied threesoms and some very very hardly-even-counts bdsm themes.

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**How We're Living Now**

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They weren't entirely sure when or how it happened.

No, that wasn't entirely true. They had a rough idea of when it had happened. Even if they couldn't agree on what the exact incident that started them on this was they could all agree that it was after Juan. Juan was the heat and the boredom and sharing a small motel room for too long and not having morals enough between them to care about random one time sex with co-workers.

So it happened sometime after Juan and before the job with the hospital and order 23. It was a pretty big time frame but they had a rough idea as to when at least.

How was another story entirely.

Like they all had their own theories as to when they became an "us" in the most strict sense of the word they were comfortable with they all had theories as to how.

Hardison claimed it was a mixture of natural geek magnetism and his careful (diabolical) plotting. This insistence is normally followed by Parker and Eliot threatening to make it a twosome if he ever uses that creepy weird-ass laugh again. He'll use it again before the weeks out, but they let it slide.

Parker claims she stole them and they just haven't realized she's keeping them yet. Although Eliot would never admit it he finds it a little sweet. He's not entirely sure when he became fluent in Parker but every time she says it he knows she doesn't keep just anything. There are few things Parker actually holds onto and to steal them and keep them? That's as close to "I love you" as Parker gets.

Eliot's explanation varies from the practical (if rather vague) explanation he gave Sophie when she figured out: "Honestly I don't know. I was cooking dinner and Hardison showed up, next thing I knew Parker was there, and joking about me making dinner. I said I only cook if my dates puttin' out, joke 'might add. Next thing I know Parkers doin' somthin' you don't want to hear about and things just kind of happened." To the borderline cliché (normally in a post moment when his minds too settled for snark) "way to a man's heart…" which was normally when Parker elbowed him.

So he did have a rough idea of how and when, and the why had been answered a long time ago.

But at the moment, laying between Hardison and Parker (they'd insisted on it, he was still pretty banged up from his latest fight), staring at the ceiling and feeling… calm… like there wasn't something to control or do but that this… these bodies on either side of him, the bed beneath him, the tangle of limbs, and his off white ceiling above... was his whole world right then.

And maybe just maybe he could stop questioning for a few minutes and relax. Maybe just maybe it was safe enough.

A sharp tug on his hair made his tense but the gentle hand drawing his face upward mixed the signal somewhere along the way. He looked to where the hands were turning him, seeing Parker smiling at him like she knew exactly what had just happened.

Considering a certain part of his anatomy was close to her he was relatively sure she knew at least part of it.

"Sleep." She said drowsily. "You're thinking too much. You're not allowed to do that here."

Eliot was tempted to make the argument that this was his home and his bed and he could damn well do as he pleased.

Instead he found himself nodding and closing his eyes.

"Good boy." Hardison said on his other side, half teasing in the way they never really stopped ribbing at each other, and petted Eliot's head, combing his fingers through his hair.

Normally that would be cause for Eliot to put a much deserved beat down on Hardison.

Instead he had to take a long sharp breath against the sensation that sent from the roots of his hair down his spine and yeah, Parker really knew there was something going on.

"Interesting." Parker muttered, watching. "Do that again Hardison. I think Eliot likes that."

Eliot opened his mouth to protest and was well and prepared for Hardison to flip out. Parker was insane and was always up for anything but Hardison seemed to be a landmine for "That's freaky" admittedly they hadn't run into any sexing he wasn't interested in but…

And really, yeah, there may have been some part of him that sort of liked… but no. He was a hitter. The last thing he needed to be doing was letting go of control or letting out he liked it even a little bit.

He opened his mouth to protest.

But then Parker was kissing him and Hardison's hand fisted in his hair and he whispered "Does he?" in Eliot's ear with a hint of something Eliot hadn't heard before, at least not in Hardison's voice, and he wasn't sure he could have formed words at just that moment even if Parker hadn't been keeping his mouth occupied.

Hands were pulling at his hair and roaming his body and he was trying to keep up and keep track and stay in control as much as he could.

"Close your eyes." Parker said, childish teasing in her voice before her mouth reclaimed his.

"Let go." Hardison said on his other side, skilled hands working at the knots in his shoulders avoiding the spattering of bruises.

Muscle by muscle Eliot relaxed and did as told, letting go, letting them take over.

Hours later he'd find himself staring at the ceiling again, dazed and sore and satisfied.

He wasn't sure how or when this had happened and he wasn't sure how it was going to change now.

But he was laying in a new tangle of limbs trying to make himself get up and head out to the kitchen.

He was pretty sure they'd all have to talk about what just happened, but it could probably wait until after breakfast.


	2. Promise Me We'll Take it Slow

**Notes:** Follows How We're Living Now. Title comes from Different Kind of Knight

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**Promise Me You'll Take it Slow**

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After breakfast they don't actually _talk_ about what happened.

In retrospect Eliot really had to wonder whether or not, if he had thought things through, he still would have decided to make pancakes for breakfast.

Sure, they were easy to make and he was a bit distracted.

They were also Parker's favorite and pretty high up on Hardison's list of breakfast foods and as annoying as it was most of the time that they never really appreciated the effort he went through for more extravagant meals sometimes it was nice to know something so simple could make them so happy.

If he was honest with himself that may be one more thing he liked about them.

So he had had his reasons for making pancakes.

And fair enough that both Parker and Hardison had settled back for another hour or two of sleep awhile before he got up to make a belated breakfast so he hadn't had a way of knowing the kind of mood Parker would wake up in.

Or the amount of energy she'd have before descending on a breakfast that consisted of, among other things, apple juice and maple syrup.

And in Eliot's own defense he had tried to hide the apple juice before Parker woke up.

He wasn't a total idiot.

Not that that had stopped Parker from finding it.

Even so breakfast had started out normal. Hardison and Parker had woken up and come out of the bedroom, following the smells of cooking food.

Parker was dressed in one of Eliot's old tee-shirts and, knowing Parker, possibly nothing else. Hell, she was probably only wearing that on Hardison's urging. Her hair was down and mussed from sleep and other things. Hardison was dressed in a pair of sweat pants that may or may not have belonged to Eliot.

They both looked bleary eyed and in need of coffee but beautiful in the way everything looked beautiful on mornings like this.

Not that Eliot would ever admit to that.

Coffee was followed by Parker finding the apple juice and everyone becoming generally more alert. Eliot served out the pancakes and they all dug around the kitchen for the topping of their choice. Although the syrup and apple juice Parker was consuming was cause for concern Eliot couldn't help but smile at how at ease they were in his kitchen.

They settled down around Eliot's kitchen table and ate.

They were almost done when Parker's part of the morning banter faded out to be picked up a moment later by the fateful segue.

"I wonder if syrup can be used as lube." Conversation ground to a halt. "It's liquid, it's slippery, it tastes good." Eliot wasn't going to think about why she considered that last bit a necessity. She looked ponderously at her plate a moment before looking back up at Eliot with a grin.

Eliot turned to look at Hardison, trying to find some backup for explaining to Parker why this was a bad idea. Why they really didn't need to try this and oh how many ways this was just plain *wrong* and how many ways whatever Parker was thinking could go wrong.

Hardison was however looking rather thoughtful and after a moment his expression shifted to a look Eliot was pretty sure he'd never seen, never expected to see, on Hardison's face before.

Cool hands settled on Eliot's shoulders around the base of his neck sending a jolt of adrenalin to his fight or flight instincts at the same time something warm slid down his spine to settle in his chest and a somewhat lower area.

He told himself that it was the adrenaline that made him take a sharp breath when Parker leaned in close and whispered _something_ in his ear. She was so close to triggering a flashback but at the same time she was triggering a very different kind of reaction and the clash of reactions made him all but miss the actual words she'd said.

"Slow down girl." Hardison's voice broke through the slight fog. "Hey Eliot, man, you okay?"

Eliot blinked open eyes he was only vaguely aware he'd closed. He took a breath and nodded. "Ju.." The half stutter that came out made him stop and try again, careful to articulate himself. But the words that came out were different than he intended. "Just be careful, near 'bout triggered a flashback." He warned.

Which was probably why Hardison had stopped her. The part of his mind too well trained to take a holiday for very long, even in these circumstances, reminded him.

"We'll be careful." Parker whispered in his other ear, way more creepily that was normally reasonable. "Won't we be Hardison?"

"Careful is our motto." Hardison added. "Or would be if I started having a motto." A little grin crossed Hardison's face as he said that. He walked around the table, entering the personal space Parker had already invaded. "Though, really Parker, between last night and this morning he probably needs a bit of a break."

"Maybe…" Parker said, the entire tone of her voice changing as she slid her hands off his shoulders and turned to Hardison. "But it's fun with him."

Eliot wasn't sure why he shivered when Parker pulled her hands away, they'd been cold against his skin not warm.

He didn't know if it was intentional, the way Parker and Hardison were suddenly talking about him like he wasn't even there, like he didn't have a say in the matter.

He knew in… certain… company such behavior was a power play thing, that it was a way of marking them as the dominants and him as a submissive to be acknowledged or ignored as they saw fit. It could be an interesting part of a BDSM scene.

But he knew that because of the mixture of research, reading, and watching he'd done to make up for the fact his job and experimenting with that scene, especially as a sub, just were not a wise mix. He knew plenty about that sort of thing, but mostly it was just in theory.

He didn't know if either of them knew anything about that world even in theory. He didn't know if what they were doing was intentional or just a mixture of poor manners and people skills.

Before this morning he'd have been sure it was the later and moved on, but something about the way they'd been acting since Parker's "Do that again, I think he likes it."…

They really need to talk about what happened.

But before he says anything Parker and Hardison turn back toward Eliot. Parker's wearing her "about to have fun" smile, but something even more devious than usual is lingering in her eyes. Hardison's face is missing his usual grin, the almost serious look, mixed with, something, that replaced it…

Suddenly Eliot was beginning to be very sure that it hadn't been a case of the later.

"Are you tired?" Parker asked. "Cause I feel like playing still." Hardison set a hand on her shoulder and she looked back at him, probably rolling her eyes if her huff of indignation was any indication. "Only if you want to though." She added. "Unless you want to not want to. Cause I know some people are into that but if you are then we need to get a safe word. I mean I'm pretty sure that if you really didn't want something you could stop us but I kinda like handcuffs and that might cause a problem and…"

She trailed off and Eliot took in a long breath.

Looks like they wouldn't be talking about what happened that morning in the strictest sense. Other stuff… yeah. Other stuff would be what they're talking about.

A lot of other stuff. Cause even if most of this stuff he only knew about in theory he knew anything serious like this you didn't just go into without issue in the most normal circumstances. When you mixed in Parker being about as crazy as always, Hardison's suprising shift in attitude (and how did Eliot miss this side of him? The Creepiest thing was that he wasn't that much different than usual just… more self contained… more in control), and who he was, and that they all worked together?

He winced internally at how very badly this all could turn out.

But he'd come this far already. Why not try?

Eliot lowered his eyes from the other two. "Wheeler." He said simply, not explaining the origins of the word.

"Wheeler." Hardison repeated. "Is that your safeword?" Eliot nodded. "Uh uh, none of this strong and silent shit. Use your words."

"Yes." Eliot answered, blinking against the sensations slipping through him. Sure he'd felt something like it before but never… never like this.

"Alec" Hardison prompted. "Yes, Alec."

"Yes, Alec." Eliot parroted, the word feeling strange on his tongue.

"You can still call me Parker." Parker added her voice almost flippant. "We're going to have fun now though. Right?"

Eliot didn't see what Hardison's nonverbal response was but a moment later Hardison's hand settled on his shoulder. The warmth seeped into the spot left cold by Parker's for a moment and Eliot's already fraying nerves. "Take it easy." Hardison, no _Alec, _said. "No need to freak out our boy here. Right Parker?"

Parker huffed but sighed. "Alright."

"See, nice and easy. No need to rush." Alec's other hand touched his shoulder, ghosting across his collarbone and under his chin, raising his face to look at Alec. "Now, tell us what you need."


	3. Your Heart Can Rest in Mine

**Notes: **Title comes for In the Darkness (by CK). Takes place shortly after the last chapter

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**Your Heart Can Rest in Mine****

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**

He's kneeling on the floor of the bedroom, eyes studying the grain of the wood floor beneath him, breathing and trying to let his mind remember this part, what he's supposed to do, what comes next.

The problem is for all he knows about this in theory they are far past what he knows in practice.

A hand, Parker's he thinks, rests on his head for a moment before the fingers slide through his hair and he has to take a breath to stop from reacting.

The motion repeats and Hardison's, Alec's, hand touches his chin a silent command to look up and meet his eyes. "Let go El." He says the combination of the soft yet hard words and fingers in his hair make him repress a shudder.

Alec raises his eyes toward Parker for a moment and then finger tighten in his hair almost painfully Parker's voice right in his ear whispers. "Let go. We're in control now. Let go."

Eliot's not sure if he's doing as told when the shudder passes through him then, or if he simply couldn't hold that one in.

"Good…" Parker almost hums, her fingers letting his hair go and going back to petting.

"We need to talk about rules." Hardison says just barely shifting his weight, one of his subtler tells that he's uncertain, but he gives no more sign. "We've already talked about some of the basics."

"What you need." Parker half sing songs, standing and moving away but out of Eliot's line of vision. "What we can give you." Parker giggles and Eliot tenses. Parker giggling was never a good thing.

Alec sends Parker a reproachful look before turning his attention back to Eliot. "Your safeword, your boundaries… but there are more things we need to know. More rules and more than rules there's an understanding. At it's heart what we'll do here isn't about sex. It's about control."

"You give us control so you don't have to have it." Parker says, nearly causing him to jerk because she's suddenly *right there* and he feels her brushing something made out of leather against the bare skin of his back a single cold hand settling between his shoulder blades. "You trust us to take care of you."

Alec steps closer his hand cupping the side of Eliot's face strangely chaste and yet the hand almost felt like it was burning against his skin. "But for this to work you have to trust us. In this room, while I'm being Alec and while we're doing this you have to let us protect you."

Eliot feels Parker's hands settle on his shoulders reminding him, like he could forget, that she's there. "Can you do that?" She asked.

Could he?

He doesn't answer verbally, not this time. Alec had already let him know he was supposed to respond with words when asked a question but he thinks this time the actions will speak the loudest.

He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. The tension doesn't go away but he feels Parkers cold hands on his shoulders and Alec's burning hand on his cheek and the warmth at the pit of his stomach and this something in the air.

And he breathes in and thinks about those feelings, those sensations, and not what he should be doing or what comes next. That's not his job right now.

He leans into the hand on his cheek, lets a shiver run down his spine when Parker traces a scar on his right shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

Alec takes his hand away and Eliot lets his face drop back toward the floor.

That burning hand comes to rest on top of his head and Parker's breath tickles the hairs around the base of his neck and he can't tell if she's sniffing him or something else equally, perfectly, Parkerish but just as he didn't need to speak his answer they don't need to speak theirs


	4. This Tangled Shape I'm In

**Notes: **This has arrived at some very interesting places but despite the rating being upped there is still no actual sex or even borderline smut. It's mostly about what's going on in the characters heads. That being said both characters involved are in their first Dom/sub relationship and while they've done their homework they're still experiencing a pretty steep learning curve. What's more the POV is third person limited through the mind of Hardison who, as stated, is still learning. What does this mean? Yes, he makes mistakes and does things he shouldn't do some of which he realizes some of which he doesn't. This isn't BDSM in it's purest form rather BDSM as practiced by humans still trying to get a hang of what they're doing.  
Yeah, I might just be a little nervous about this piece, it's my first time writing from Hardison's POV in this verse or actually writing something like *this*.  
Warnings: Threesome. BDSM themes.

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**This Tangled Shape I'm In**

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The crop in his hands is Parker's.

They bought it together (actually bought it because Hardison thinks the people who own the store they bought it from are actually non-creepy decent people and there need to be more of those in the world in general) just a little under a week ago when they decided that the three of them had been making this thing work for a month and Eliot deserved a surprise.

And they deserved to enjoy giving the guy who was never surprised a safe surprise.

Hardison had been hesitant. After all, it was Eliot, and eighty percent of the non basic rules for subs went out the window somewhere between your sub (probably) being heavily abused as a kid, being tortured (for sure) on four different continents, and suffering from a pretty bad case of PTSD (even if he'd long since intimidated said disorder into submission for most of general life).

Mostly they'd done just basic submission stuff (could you even call that basic?) and talked a lot. They'd had more serious conversations in the past week than Hardison thinks they've had together the entire time they've known each other. In that time Eliot had told them he liked pain, consensual pain as he put it, but for all the talk they'd done where Eliot was careful to explain that there was a big difference between what he'd been through and what he thought he'd like…

Hardison kept getting stuck on the "think"s and "thought"s. Eliot had told them for all he knew in theory (and really, the guy almost knew more than he knew and Eliot didn't have the access to the internet Hardison did) he'd never really done anything more in practice than fantasize.

It had never been safe enough before.

He'd never trusted anyone enough before.

Which was part of the problem, Hardison guessed. Eliot thought he'd like pain in a scene. Hell, Hardison knew Eliot liked sex rough with just enough prep to keep it safe but…

Hardison worried. Eliot didn't know for sure and Hardison knew just how easy it would be for him to trigger a flash back and even if it didn't it was completely against Eliot's nature and everything he'd been taught and learned over the years to use a safe word, to admit that something was more than he could handle.

Alec held Parker's crop in his hands, uncertain.

Not more than a foot in front of him Eliot knelt on the floor, scars contrasting with his skin, hair down and loose, hiding his face.

Tension humming through his shoulders that Alec wished was because he was still uncomfortable submitting and not because of all the reasons Alec was holding Parker's crop and Parker wasn't here.

The job had gone south and Parker had gotten badly beat up while Eliot, on the other side of the building, had been forced to leave the building rather than go to her rescue, getting out without a scratch.

Parker was going to be alright, she was drugged up on pain meds and asleep on the fold out sofa in the living room, just a few days of rest needed and she'd be back on her feet like nothing happened.

But it hadn't been more than ten minutes after they made sure Parker was fast asleep the way only really good drugs could get her before Eliot addressed him as Alec, asking for what he needed the only way he could think of.

Eliot was hurting. Hardison had been seeing that since they drove in in a Big Damn Heroes moment and saved Parker only to find they hadn't gotten there quite soon enough to save her from everything. He'd been quiet and not his usual Strong and Silent Type quiet. The sort of unnatural quiet that made Hardison think of the calm before a big storm of the way Eliot tried to teach him the outdoors would get quiet if a big predator was nearby.

Eliot hadn't been able to protect Parker. He was angry at himself and the world. Life had been out of control and now he was having a hard time controlling himself.

It was the kind of situation Alec could help with better than Hardison.

As Alec, as Eliot's dom, Eliot could just surrender the control he was struggling with to him to figure out and in time he could give it back when Eliot had regathered himself without the burden of everything on his shoulders. Alec could do that. He figure, in a way, it was his job to do that.

Hardison had acknowledged Eliot's request and given him the order to go into the bed room, into the safe space they'd made for this, strip, and kneel to wait for him.

Meanwhile Hardison had tried to get himself into his own correct headspace. He shoved down his worry over Parker, how much it hurt him to see her laying there with bruises on her face and that little hitch in her breathing she only got when drugged up on pain killers. He forced away the images of her he was trying so hard to forget. For just a brief moment he allowed himself to recognize that he wasn't doing all that much better than Eliot but maybe taking control and taking care of Eliot… maybe that would do him some good too. ..

It had been a few minutes before he actually went into the bedroom. He'd taken the time to make a side trip to the bathroom, splashing some water on his face and giving his mind some time to stop running eighteen different tasks at the same time. He mentally shut down each excess train of thought. He needed to be focused.

Eliot needed him to be focused.

Eliot had been waiting for him on the floor as instructed, tense and getting tenser and Alec considered giving him more time to try to relax and get to the place in his head where he needed to be.

But in honesty Alec doubted more time would get him there.

"Why did you ask for this?" Alec had asked, his voice pointedly neutral. Sure, he was pretty sure he knew, but that wasn't the point. Eliot was trying to trust them, to tell them what he needed, but it was like pulling nails even at the best of times. Alec was getting ready for another round of twenty questions.

At least Eliot always answered a direct question with a full and honest answer.

Or maybe that was half the problem. Technically Eliot was doing everything right.

Except Eliot didn't answer, not this time.

"Eliot." Alec said, his voice just a little sharper when the silence stretched too long. "Why did you ask for this?"

Eliot didn't even twitch.

Alec felt control starting to slip through his fingers. He hadn't been prepared for Eliot to just *not* do as told. It was ridiculous really to think about but it had never even occurred to him that Eliot would just… not.

He didn't like to admit it but this was probably a sign that he had about as much experience as Eliot did.

He stood there for a long moment, trying to understand, trying to figure out what this meant, trying to save the scene and actually help Eliot rather than… whatever happened if he couldn't take back control.

Take back control.

It took a moment for the thought to fully register and another for him to admit in a bizzar way it made sense.

Eliot had been just surrendering control. When he was struggling so hard with himself and control just surrendering it… might not be an option in his mind. You couldn't give up something you didn't have.

What he needed was for someone to take control rather than just accept it.

A dozen tidbits of conversation from the past few weeks spiraled through his head. They'd talked about spankings during a conversation about kinks and all three of them shared a common association between spankings and bad parental figures that they didn't want to even try mixing with sex. Eliot had said he thought he'd like pain. He'd said in a fight it made him pay attention a different time. Parker had told Hardison in the store about how Eliot had "Cutely" (her crazy phrasing not his) asked her the day before if she owned a crop…

Snatches of other conversations, of the things he'd learned over the internet, of things he'd learned talking to other doms ever since this thing started in his eternal quest for enough knowledge to not make it obvious he'd never done this before even if they all knew it, his own knowledge of Eliot… they chased him over to Parker's drawer in the dresser. He pushed past the piles of crap she kept in there (he normally tried not to judge but didn't understand why she'd filled the drawer left to her to keep spare clothes in with tubes of glitter, a box of peeps, a bracelet made out of soda can tabs, an army of little green army men, and seven mismatched socks) to find the crop she'd brought "home" the week before.

Which was how he ended up here. In front of Eliot.

And in uncharted waters.

Carefully, slowly, he knelt down.

"Say your safeword so I Know that you can say it and I know for certain that we both know what it is." He said his voice sounding firmer than he felt. There was half a moment of hesitation. "Say it or I walk out that door and this stops now."

"Wheeler." Eliot said.

Alec wasn't quite sure but he could have sworn a tiny bit of tension was already starting to give way.

"Wheeler." Alec repeated. "You say that word and everything stops. I check in with you and we decide where to go from there. Understand?" Eliot nodded. "Oh no. We are not starting that shit again. Use your words."

"I understand." Alec waited a pointed moment. "I understand, Alec."

A hint of a smile touched Alec's face and he reached out, letting his fingers run through Eliot's hair once to let the other man know he was happy Eliot remembered without being told. "Are you ready to tell me why you asked for this?"

Silence.

Alec let out a sigh. "Look up." Slowly Eliot's raised his head, keeping his eyes downcast. "Look at what I'm holding." Eliot's gaze raised to the crop in Alec's hands and recognition ran across his face. "This is your opportunity to say no to this. You tell me you don't want this and I put this back in the drawer no questions asked. It's your right and I'm trusting that you know what you can and can't handle."

Eliot looked at it for a long moment, so long Alec was about to decide that that was defiantly a negative and put it away. But then Eliot nodded. "I want it." He let out a shaken breath that sounded almost like "I need it."

"Alright then." Slowly Alec stood back up, feeling like he was towering over the smaller man, the crop heavy in his hand. "Stand up. Brace yourself against the dresser." He watched as Eliot stood slowly, moving with his usual cat like grace to do as ordered, the heavy wooden dressed serving as well as anything. Alec knew that after everything Eliot has been through there was probably nothing Alec could do and certainly nothing he would do that would actually make Eliot need something to brace against.

But that wasn't the point. Or was the point maybe. Half the battle for doing anything like this would be keeping Eliot's head here, with him, and away from the origins of the scars on his skin, heart, and mind.

"We haven't really talked about this." Alec said almost casually. "It was an oversight, I should have realized that someone like yourself would want to test how far you could go and would need to challenge the boundaries, would need to force us to take control sooner or later." He absently tapped his free palm with the crop, feeling completely cliché but knowing the sound would remind Eliot what he held and, more importantly, let Eliot know where it was and what he was doing with it. "But there of course have to be rules for this too. I'm not going to beat you for no reason. Of course, because you want me to might turn out to be a reason." He still was still wrestling with his feelings about that. Parker was all too happy to oblige in that regards but he wasn't going to mention her now.

He didn't need to.

"But you are intentionally not answering my question. That counts as disobedience. I'm sure we can both agree that part of this arrangement is about obedience, a part of the meaning of that controversial little acronym an' all. So what do you think is a reasonable punishment for basic disobedience?"

Silence.

"The silence? Not helpful." With careful precision, extremely glad that he'd practiced and tested this after they'd brought it home even if it had been hard to explain the welt on his arm, he struck the first blow low on Eliot's back. It was a weaker blow, more of a reminder than actual intention to cause pain.

It didn't even leave a mark, though Alec was quick to shove the hint of disappointment away. This, for the moment, wasn't about him or any thoughts and feelings he was still trying to get comfortable with having inside his head.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" Eliot asked, breaking his silence with something sarcastic and sharp and so very him in nearly knocked Alec out of Alec-headspace and back into Hardison. He had to bite back the banterish response. There had been just a hint of a catch to the words, just the faintest touch of something ragged with brittle bits and sharp edges.

The next blow was harder and lower, a satisfying snap of leather against flesh echoing in the stillness followed immediately by an aborted hiss.

Eliot hadn't been expecting that.

Alec quickly turned his attention to Eliot's face. "Keep your head up, don't hide behind your hair." Alec instructed when he realized Eliot was using his hair almost like a screen. "That was a normal blow." He paused, giving Eliot a moment to think, to process, and to safeword if he needed to.

Like he would. A part of Alec's mind reminded him.

But this was about trust. He'd trust Eliot with this until it became obvious that he couldn't.

"Now are you ready to tell me why you asked for this."

Eliot licked his lips, let out a breath, and shook his head.

Alec let out another sigh, trying to deny the fact the crop in his hand no longer felt heavy but his pants were just beginning to possibly be an issue. This was not about that. Not at the moment at least.

"I like the number three. How about three for disobedience, double that for a second case in a session, triple for a third and you get the general idea I think. So, since we don't do retrograde punishment and all we'll start from the beginning. Why did you ask for this?"

Silence.

Alec would never admit it but he hesitated. It was only for half a beat but it was half a beat longer than he should have. He was the one in control. He was the one who was suppose to be confident in this, wasn't he?

He struck the three blows before he let himself hesitate further, steadily, evenly, with the right amount of force. He'd had a moment of self consciousness but he was a professional, maybe not in this profession, but he knew how to do things right even if he was nervous.

"Okay. New question since that one was going over so well. Don't think you're getting out of that one by the way. Just trying to vary it up." And not unintentionally give Eliot a flashback of an interrogation. "What are you thinking? That should be easy."

Silence.

"Count to six with me." Alec instructed and didn't let himself hesitate, trying to slip deeper into Alec head space where this ride went smoother and was less of a roller coaster between enjoying the ride and feeling like he was one inch away from ruining things.

Later he'd kick himself for telling himself that hesitation had been bad.

Later he'd remind himself what he'd been told more than once. Trust your instincts. Trust your own hesitation. If something doesn't feel right don't do anything until you know why.

Later he'd be angry with himself for forgetting what Eliot once said. Fear is a good thing. It makes you pay attention.

He struck six blows and tried to ignore his fears and he missed… something. Later he'd look back and he'd realize that Eliot's breath had caught and his eyes had closed not in response to the blows or anything a sub without his baggage might have been feeling.

Later he'd realize blow number five, the one it had taken Eliot half a beat longer to count out loud with him, had struck higher on Eliot's back than the others.

But in that moment that moment passed so quickly and Hardison was trying to ignore his own insecurity and Eliot's face was set so soon…

And the tension from his shoulders had gone just a little.

"I suppose if I asked what you needed you wouldn't answer me would you?" Alec asked. "What do you hope to accomplish by all of this?" No response. "That was a question."

There was something odd in Eliot's smirk when he answered that with. "Go to hell."

Well. Things had taken an odd turn.

Alec shook his head, eye trailing down Eliot's back. Red marks and just the hint of welts were beginning to appear. Nothing that wouldn't heal within a couple of days at most. Nothing that Eliot couldn't handle.

And a Parker like part of his mind commented on how they were rather pretty against Eliot's skin.

"And I suppose that was an answer, though I wonder about you wanting to go to hell."

Eliot gave a half huff of frustration that was half… something else.

"What was that?" No answer. "That was a question." No answer.

They needed a better system for this. He should just stop this and just figure out what the hell was up with Eliot. But he'd already said he was going to do something and he should carry through. Actions and consequences were important, right?

"Count with me to twelve."

Eliot missed three, his breathing hitching and something somewhere between fear and pain running across his face. Alec didn't strike four, waiting for Eliot to safeword, there was clearly something wrong.

He didn't expected a moment later for Eliot to just barely mutter out "four." And follow it with. "Four damit… four."

Hardison dropped the crop and said one word. "Wheeler."

"Wha…?" Eliot muttered, turning away from the dresser, his breathing still quicker than it should be and Alec was just about ready to murder Eliot if he had been doing what Alec thought he had been doing.

"What do you mean what? Were you really just… I don't… Eliot we can't do this if I can't fucking trust you to safe word." Eliot's eyes actually widened a little bit his mouth half opened in a denial. "You just had a flash back and I'm starting to think it wasn't the first one I caused. Unless you suddenly started liking reliving that shit you need to let me know when that happens, not *ask* for more. Just because you can take it doesn't mean it's at all okay."

Eliot took a deep breath. "'right." He turned to go… Hardison didn't even know.

"No. Not alright. You think I can't figure out what that was all about?" Eliot froze. "You were goading me on. That wasn't about testing boundaries. That was trying to get me to punish you. That's why you didn't safe word. You wanted it to hurt in the bad way." Hardison closed his eyes, trying to wrap his brain around what had just happened, what he'd almost done to Eliot and what Eliot had almost done to him. "I get that you feel guilty. I get that it's more than the rest of us because in your head your whole job is to protect us from that and you think you failed. I Know you love Parker and that makes this so much harder. It's hard for me to see her like that too. But… That… You aren't just trusting us Eliot. We're trusting you and you just… you used me."

He turned, ready to walk away, ready to keep on walking, ready to just… he didn't even know what. This was a mess and when it came down to it it was his fault for ignoring every fucking blaring red neon light that there was something wrong that he was only now realizing was there.

He was oh so ready to get out of there and just… let go…

But even as he took a step he nudged the crop he'd dropped at his feet and realized he was about to make one more mistake.

He took a breath, let it out, and took another. He took his anger, his hurt, the fear and worry and everything that resulted from this one fucked up incident and saved it on a flash drive, disconnected it from his internal computer and put it aside for later.

He still had a responsibility to do, no matter how pissed he was at his sub there was no excuse to just walking out after a scene no matter how badly it had gone.

He hadn't even turned back when he heard a swoosh of motion followed by a thunk, crack, and hiss of pain.

Eliot had punched a hole in the wall.

It made Hardison worried, though not as worried as he'd be if they didn't constantly keep spackle, paint, and ace bandage on hand for a reason.

Hardison turned and shook his head, walking across the room to touch Eliot's shoulder. "Lay down." He said in a calm voice. "Let me make sure you're okay. I'm mad but I'm going to stay awhile to make sure you're okay anyway. I always will. I promise. We'll talk about what just happened later. Right now I'm going to take care of you."

The look of relief that flash ever so briefly across Eliot's face made a part of that tense knot inside Hardison's chest release a little bit. Yeah. Shit had just gone down and it would take some time to build back up trust and they were going to have to do what they'd been avoiding and actually address the fact that Hardison was the most emotionally stable of the three of them and that in itself was a sign they were all doomed.

Yeah. Shit was bad and this probably wasn't going to be the only bump in the road for them but they could figure this out.

Somehow they'd figure this out.


	5. Lessons About Freedom

**Notes: **Follows a week after This Tangled Shape I'm In.  
I admit this may have come from a recent car ride with someone after some shit went down and Dead or Alive came on the radio and we just said fuck it, turned the radio up all the way and rat-a-tat tatted on the preverbial glass.  
Title of course comes from Let's Take a Drive  
Warnings: Threesome. BDSM themes.

* * *

**Lessons About Freedom**

* * *

It was a week since Parker got hurt on a job and things... happened.

Eliot couldn't even begin to put words to what exactly had happened. Even in his head it was a mess, chaos colored purple like parker's bruises, dark cherry wood like the dresser in his bed room and deep blue like the color of the sheets on his bed he stared at because every time he met Alec's eyes the force of disappointment and anger mixed with compassion and love just…

He wasn't good at this feeling thing. For years he'd kept his heart all but frozen over just to survive in his world. The Leverage team had started to thaw it out more and more only for him to realize he didn't really know what to do with it.

And then he'd given it away, frozen and thawed parts alike, in almost the purest sense of the word.

A part of him, his gut (and, maybe, his heart), trusted that they would teach him what he didn't know and help ease the way.

His mind was of other opinions.

His mind was almost winning now.

It was a week after Parker got hurt on the job, a week after things happened, and Eliot was getting ready to do what the thirty six years in survival training that masqueraded as his life had taught him to do in times like this.

Commit a tactical retreat, regroup, and possibly withdraw from the conflict all together and live to fight another day.

It wasn't that things had been bad. Hell half the problem was they were almost, had been, carrying on like normal.

After Alec had gone back to being Hardison Eliot had seemed to slip into a weird alternate universe where the past month had never actually happened. Hardison and Parker acted as usual, which had been the order of the day for the most part even for the last month, but the silent undertone that only the three of them registered or understood was gone.

The silence in their conversations was deafening.

Parker was soon back on her feet and slipping in and out of his apartment and Hardison still dropped by. They even had sex together, Parker claimed it was the doctors orders to make her feel better and they'd both been willing to oblige.

But they'd lain there in a tangled heap afterwards and Parker petted his hair but never once even slid her fingers through it.

After the beautiful morning that had started this Parker made sure to pull his hair at least once every time they lay together.

He had never asked why.

Eliot never thought it would bother him so much for her to just leave him alone.

Then, yesterday, they had just stopped showing up all together.

He couldn't remember the last time they'd been home for twenty four hours and neither of them had shown up.

It was hour thirty seven since the Saturday evening Parker had slipped out his window when Eliot gave up and just went to Nate's.

He successfully acted normal all through the day, bantering with Hardison and giving Parker bewildered looks. He slipped up a little when he slipped out without telling Nate when he'd be in the next day, a life long habit meant he almost never said goodbye but just reiterated when they'd see each other again, but he was the silent type and he doubted anyone really noticed.

After all, no one on the team seemed to realize the handful of times he's muttered a goodbye were always before the fights he barely walked away from. When they didn't notice he said goodbye when he wasn't sure he was going to be coming back then was there really any chance they'd notice he didn't say anything at all before he left?

It had been forty nine hours and eleven minutes when Eliot put his fist through a wall, lashing out in anger and frustration at himself and everyone, in their circle and out.

It was what he knew to do to keep a grip on the hurt.

Pound it down bit by bit to someplace so dark and cold it froze over and let him live.

It didn't matter if he pounded parts of himself in the process.

No one asked about the bruised knuckles at Nate's apartment the next day.

No one acted like there was anything unusual, himself included.

No one stopped him when he left without saying good bye again.

By hour seventy a second hole had been punched through the wall but he was moving slowly towards breaking the momentum of whatever had been going on in his head since…

Well since.

He'd let them in. He'd let them in.

And he had to close up the holes he'd let them in through before more of his control got out and anything else got in.

He moved through the task of beginning to patch the holes he'd put in the walls.

Physical and otherwise.

He was on hole number two (he'd fixed the one in his bedroom from the day Parker got hurt first) when he reached back for a tool and someone handed it to him.

It was only that Parker had been anticipating the punch that saved her from his instinctive reaction.

"I think you should leave this hole." Parker said. "I like it. It gives the room character."

Eliot put down the tool and sat down with his back against the wall, not even trying to react to the fact Parker had come back and was acting like there was nothing unusual while giving him advice on home décor.

"There's something wrong with you." He mumbled.

"You really shouldn't sound so surprised when you say that anymore." She advised him sagely before kneeling down in front of him. "I want you to see someone. Will you come with me?"

Eliot was too far off guard by her sudden appearance and the fact she was actually asking instead of just dragging him along with her like she'd always done to answer with anything but a hesitant nod.

Spackle was put away, shoes were found, and not very long later Eliot found himself riding shotgun in the car he hadn't even known she had (and was really hoping she hadn't stolen) and not giving a damn about the make and model for once.

"Where are we going?" He asked, not for the first time.

"To see someone I know." Parker gave the same answer she'd been giving every time he asked. She took the last turn and eased them onto the interstate. Eliot had been surprised to note she drove much more sanely than he had expected she would. Hell, she probably drove more sanely than he did.

That thought made his head hurt even if he'd learned how to drive under some strained conditions.

The thought hadn't entirely finished processing when she reached over and turned the radio that had been tuned to a classic rock and roll station up as high as it would go.

The sudden assault of the first few notes of "Dead or Alive" loud enough to vibrate everything in the little two door car was followed by Parker flooring the gas peddle.

It was three in the morning, the roads were empty, and the highway stretched out in front of them as far as the eye could see while outside their windows the world was flying by.

"It's all the same, only the names will change" At this volume the words echoed inside his chest and he reached for the radio only to have Parker slap his hand away. He turned wanting to ask her or maybe just tell her there was something wrong with her again only to find her mouth was moving and if he listened hard he could hear her singing with the lyrics, or sort of just shouting wordlessly and off key mildly in time with the music. "Everyday it seems we're wasting away. Another place where the faces are so cold. I'd drive all night just to get back home."

Before he could try to respond over the noise of the music she pressed a button and the top of the (apparently convertible) retracted.

The howl of wind around them stole whatever was left of his hopes to actually communicate with her.

"Cause I'm a cowboy. On a steel horse I ride." The baseline echoed in his chest like a second heart beat, the words echoed a hint of a past he wondered if Parker had somehow chosen this song on purpose. "I'm wanted. Dead or alive."

His eyes were on her, trying to figure out what was going on but the strange focus she'd had while driving in the city had faded, a huge grin replacing it as the wind whipped around her hair and she sang along to the words, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

She looked… about as carefree as she did jumping off a building.

So about as happy and carefree as he'd ever seen her.

Figures. She's going fast, the air sending her hair whipping about, the world speeding by.

Hell it felt like they were flying.

Which was probably what was making her so happy.

"Wanted. Dead or alive."

He turned away from her, noticing the smile on his own face from watching her and he let himself close his eyes.

It did feel like he was flying.

The baseline roared inside and the words roared with the wind outside. Later he wouldn't even be sure when he gave into that roar and joined in. "Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days. And the people I meet always go their separate ways." A hand settled on his shoulder but he didn't look over even if he knew it was Parker and at this speed she should have both hands on the steering wheel. "Sometimes you tell the day. By the bottle that you drink. And times when you're alone all you do is think"

As they reached the chorus he opened his eyes, looking out, his voice raising with the song so he wasn't just softly singing along but shouting out to meet it just as Parker had been doing.

By then the words didn't even matter anymore. Between the wind and the speed and the roar of the car and the night and the music and the feeling of vibrations all around him that drove it all into his chest like a hundred fists punching into walls…

It was like punching holes in walls. It was like shouting out in a fight, the way it seemed just another release of energy and violence and pain. It was like he was letting something out that he could never, would never, put a name to.

"ALIVE"

Their voices combined for that word loud enough to be heard clearly over the music.

As the song came to an end Parker slowed down to the actual speed limit and Eliot felt like they were coming down from some kind of… he didn't even know what. He felt exhilaration and adrenalin and light headed and just like for one moment he'd broken surface and breathed when he hadn't even realized he'd been underwater before.

A few minutes later they reached an exit and Parker pulled off, parking the car at the first semi safe and legal place she could and turning to him.

"You met him!" She said, sounding excited and relieved.

Eliot knew enough Parker logic to be able to figure out what she meant and nodded, the soft smile still on his lips.

She reached out a hand running it through his hair. "It doesn't fix everything." She tells him. "Some things just go wrong and sometimes it isn't easy to fix. Sometimes you can't. But when you feel like this and you don't want to tell us because you're you and you don't like to tell us when you're hurting just… take a drive. You'll see a guy I know and maybe… maybe feel a little better afterwards."

When her fingers reached the end of his hair again she paused. "You shouldn't have done what you did but we understand." She tugged lightly on the ends. "It'll take a while for Hardison to sort out the mess you gave him but he'll come around. Until then you're not allowed to fix the holes understand?"

Eliot met her eyes and nodded.

She nodded back and the car roared back to life and they rolled out onto the highway, a swift moving blur of music and life.


	6. Pray For Your Innocence

**Notes: **Title comes from Mary Can You Come Outside

* * *

**Pray For Your Innocence**

* * *

It's been one week seven hours and roughly fifteen minutes since Parker was hurt.

It's been six days and nine hours since the session went very badly.

It's been six days and eight hours since Hardison decided that Alec was going to be put into suspension until he was sure shit wouldn't be going down again and he got control back.

It's been five days and twenty hours since Parker said that doctors orders were that they all have sex and only a few hours longer since he first told Parker why he and Eliot were acting oddly around each other.

It's been almost exactly four days and twelve hours since he last saw Eliot outside of Nate's apartment.

Considering Eliot left a few hours ago and Hardison still had no intention of going looking for him until his head made some kind of sense it looked like it was going to be quite a bit longer still.

It's late, well semi late, when Hardison packs up his stuff to leave. Sophie is still there, bickering with Nate and they should really just have at it already. Normally he'd think about the wonders it did for him, Parker, and Eliot but he was so not thinking about that mess right now.

Except he was and he didn't want to be.

He's almost entirely packed up and focusing on *not* thinking about Eliot and Parker when Sophie's hands enter his range of vision and hold open the computer case he was trying to slip something into.

He stares at them blankly for a moment before letting his eyes find their way up to Sophie's face.

"Thanks" He manages to mumble, trying to shake himself back into some semblance of normalacy.

"It's no trouble." She said. "I'm heading out now myself. Though do you think you could afford the time to stop at the bar with me for some coffee?"

The synapses in his brain misfired and he was left staring at her. "Coffee?"

Bizzaro world. He must be in Bizzaro world.

"As friends." Sophie said, exasperation mixed with amusement on her voice. "You, Eliot, and Parker have been having a rough time and I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to."

Sophie knew?

Could he go back to Bizzaro world?

"Alright." Was all he managed and then they were downstairs, sitting in one of the booths in back, both drinking coffee (he needed something much stronger than Orange Soda right now).

Silence as they settled, as Hardison tried to get his mind wrapped around the fact that Sophie knew he, Parker, and Eliot were together, and was intending on giving him relationship advice.

"Did you talk to Parker and Eliot?" He asked, wondering what she knew already and what he'd manage to get out of talking about.

"Of course not, I wouldn't presume." A blink from him and she explained. "You're obviously Eliot's dom, I don't know about Parker but she seems like she'd be a… what's the word… switch at least. I don't know what the boundaries and rules you've set up are. I knew I should probably talk to you before either of them. Oh dear." She added the last bit with a little too much amusement as he choked on his coffee. "You really thought I didn't know."

"Does Nate?" He managed to croak out when he could breathe again.

"Nate? No. Some days I think the man considers sex against the bedroom wall the height of kink."

This conversation obviously did not want him to be able to breathe because that comment had him choking on his coffee again.

Casually Sophie took the mug from his hand. "I think, perhaps, you should wait until after this conversation to finish your coffee."

He had to agree with her.

"I mean he has noticed Eliot seems far less tense of late and that you three are getting along better than before but I don't think he's even considered it yet. I mean, of course he is aware BDSM exists I just doubt he'll put two and two together without something a little more obvious." A beat. "Do you plan on giving Eliot a collar?"

She didn't even bother hiding her amusement as he choked briefly on air and scrambled to recover.

He was, in fact, in Bizarro world. That was the only explanation.

She took a long sip from her coffee and let him recover.

Briefly he considered that maybe while talking about this he should put himself in the mindset of Alec. It might let him get some traction and…

Okay, he needed to stop differentiating between himself and Alec. It was good to define a difference between yourself and yourself as Dom when you saw your sub when you weren't being Dom and sub.

But he did Not need to give himself a split personality.

Still.

He took a breath and made himself relax. Obviously Sophie knew he was a Dom so he could at least focus on showing some of the confidence and self control he showed as Alec. If nothing else it would help him get through this conversation without choking on air again.

She cocked her head to one side, watching him.

Maybe noticing the change?

"You can talk to Eliot and Parker if you'd like." He said. "What we do… it's only a sometimes thing, not nearly twenty-four seven. I don't control who they talk to, even if it's about the relationship." She nodded, watching him closely. It was unnerving. "You said you wanted to talk to me about them?"

"I did." She took another sip of her drink. "You and Eliot had a fight." She stated bluntly. "Or a falling out… or… I don't know. But the night Parker got hurt something happened between you two."

…Grifters… there were times he really hated them. "Yeah."

"I'm guessing something to do with your relationship… probably something to do with violence…" Her voice got gentler, almost a touch hesitant. "Pain?"

"Yeah." Hardison muttered back. Remembering. Re-examining. Trying to figure out not for the first time how to make sure it never happened again.

"You do realize you're at a disadvantage with them don't you?" Sophie asked quietly.

Huh? "I am?"

Sophie traced the patterns in the wood of the table between them. "They both speak a language you don't. You could even say they speak it better than their native tongue." She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Violence, chaos… insanity even. It permeates their worlds, touches everything they do in little ways. Eliot's learned to control it, Parker's learned to harness it and direct it toward her goal but…" Her voice faltered, not wanting to speak the words they both understood but forcing them out. "They're both broken Hardison. More than any of the rest of us… and more than you could probably understand."

Hardison wanted to argue with that but… he knew. To him the world was ones and zeros. Before this team he'd never had to hurt anyone physically, never seen the damage he caused, and other than a few marginally bad foster homes never really been *hurt*.

"I can try." He insisted. He had been trying.

Sophie's smile was sad. "Yes you can. But you'll never have more than a tourist's vocabulary in violence." A short sigh. "As long as Eliot and Parker can do anything about it you'll never know more than you do right now. You can try but there is a level of understanding you might never have with them because they don't want to see you become enough like them to reach it."

He tried to put together some kind of response. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd understood that in a way. But it was different to have it stated to his face like this. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked.

She put down her coffee cup and ran her fingers over the edge and Hardison wondered if she was actually reluctant or just grifting him.

"Because… It's… It's not really up to me to say but… I think if this relationship is to work you'll need to understand." A pause. "And I think it might do them good."

The 'more than it would hurt you' was in the silence that followed.

"Listen to what they don't say, or what they say to eachother, watch them, and try to understand." She told him, standing slowly. "They're giving you as much as they know how to give. Treat it with care." She paused a moment longer. "If you break them further not even Nate will be able to find your body."

Before he could even form some kind of response she'd slipped away into the crowd.

He signaled the waitress.

One drink of something harder than coffee and he'd head home to do more thinking than was probably good for him.


	7. Can You Come Outside

**Notes:** Title is from Mary Can You Come Outside

* * *

**Can You Come Outside**

* * *

The sky was just starting to lighten when Parker dropped him off back at his building. They hadn't spoken to each other since Parker last stopped the car but it was okay.

They hadn't needed to say anything else that night.

Eliot made his way up to his apartment alone, tired but the quiet kind that came after a long day that ended well and he woke up after dawn with that stillness lingering like the quiet after a bad storm.

He went through his morning routine in a muted silence, not ready yet to disturb the peace he so rarely manage to find in his life.

Though his efforts to hold it proved futile when someone came knocking on his door and the outside world once more intruded on his life.

Well, he should have known it wouldn't last. It never did.

He was mentally griping about people who had no sense of decency (it was only nine in the morning on a Saturday and yeah, he was up, but if the other two had been here they would still be sleeping and they were grumpy when woken early for no good reason) when he opened the door and his mental train of thought came to a standstill.

He'd expected many things. Delivery men, sales people, Jehovah's witness, the guy next door who really needed to learn how to fix his own damn car, Nate come to give him grief, or Sophie come to give him grief about something or ask him to lunch (he never could tell what her deal was).

He didn't expect Hardison.

He really didn't expect Hardison's greeting to be. "Eliot, can you come outside?"

Eliot blinked at Hardison, trying to put together some meaning or response, his brain working to explain the bazaar request.

Hardison was only ever Alec in Eliot's apartment. They only did scenes in Eliot's bedroom but sometimes they'd carry the dynamic elsewhere in the apartment for one reason or another.

Going outside was asking to talk as just them. As just Eliot and Hardison with no chance of confusing the conditions.

Eliot nodded and went for his shoes.

Ten minutes later they were sitting together on a bench in the courtyard garden of Eliot's apartment complex, not looking at each other.

Hardison was the one who finally managed to break the silence. "I want to say if you pull a stunt like that again we're done."

"Want to?" Eliot asked trying to decide if those were even terms he could agree to. He didn't want to spend this relationship on eggshells.

"But I know it's a self fulfilling prophesy and as fucked up as it is I'm the sanest of the three of us so we're pretty much screwed to begin with."

Eliot wished he could argue with that. "So that's it?" He asked, telling himself he knew this was coming and he was okay with it.

Would be okay with it.

Hardison's "Hell no." caught him more off guard than he'd later admit to. He turned to actually look at Hardison, surprised by the other man's expression. It was a smile but a soft one, one Eliot was more used to seeing Hardison give Parker when she was confused and acting skittish. "It just means we take it slow like we agreed in the beginning. I pay attention, you try not to make me think you're the insane one, and we both do our best to keep up with Parker."

A hand on his shoulder and Eliot realized he might actually be the one being skittish.

Eliot tried to shake off the inner fifteen year old he had apparently spawned over the past week and respond in some suitably Eliot-like manner. "Well lets try for two outta three at least."

Hardison grinned in response and the air seemed to lighten. They both leaned back on the bench and settled, watching sunlight stream down over the garden beyond the shade of the tree they were under, the quiet after the storm settling back in and for the moment hitter and hacker allowed the peace to exist.

And when they did eventually get up and go back inside neither were particularly surprised to find Parker camped out on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons on the TV Eliot had finally gotten at Hardison's insistence.

And when Eliot turned off the TV an hour later, settling in to wait because Hardison had fallen asleep against his shoulder and Parker was curled up half on his lap and out cold and apparently he wasn't the only one who'd had trouble sleeping for the past few days, he thought maybe even if this was only the first of many many inevitable bumps in their relationship it might be worth it.

Because as the peace settled back around them and he settled with them it felt like coming home.


	8. Rule Number Seven

**Notes: **So this was my first attempt at smut. I'll give you a moment to process the insanity of breaking into the genre of smut by writting a BDSM threesom scene and hope you have enough faith to stick with me through this. I am actually happy with how it turned out, though at risk of review begging I would really appriciate feedback on this chapter since it's kind of new territory for me. Anyway. Title comes from House Rules.

**_Warning: M/M/F, BDSM, actual sex_**

* * *

**Rule Number Seven**

* * *

It started when they were trying to come up with a list of rules.

No, making rules was a logical and important step even if their first attempt was side tracked when Parker insisted they give the rules numbers so they could just site the number while giving each other the "sexy librarian look".

Which of course was followed by them discovering that A) Parker had yet another kink and B) they also apparently had that kink at least when Parker was borrowing Eliot's glasses.

It did still start while making a list of the rules though.

They had managed to get five rules they all more or less agreed were important enough to be the first five when Parker said "Rule six is that Eliot has to call me Parker with an Upper case P."

It was probably a good thing that they'd agreed that rule discussion should be done not in their Dom/sub roles because otherwise Eliot would have been breaking rule number four within minutes of it's creation.

As it was it took Hardison a long moment to be able to put together a response other than. "What?"

"As opposed to…?"

Parker gave him the "What planet are you from that you don't know this?" look before responding. "You. You call me parker. With a lower case p. Unless you're letting me Dom you."

That was really how this got started.

To date Alex had been the Dom, Eliot had been the sub, and Parker had resided somewhere in the space between, neither entirely submissive or Dominant.

Parker was just Parker.

Parker as the Dominant one of the three was a new concept.

And one Hardison was surprised at how willing he was to try.

The deciding factor was when parker pouted (well, tried to anyway) and reminded them that with all the drama of the last two weeks the fact she'd been hurt on a job had been forgotten and they should make it up to her by obeying her Dr.'s orders.

Hardison agreed too much to point out the closest thing to a doctor that had seen to Parker was Eliot and Hardison highly doubted the Hitter would explicitly tell her having lots of sex would help along her recovery.

Less than five minute later they had abandoned their rule making (and really, they were thieves, was there really a point of them making more than five rules?) and were standing in the bedroom.

"Rule number seven" Parker started, fixing both him and then Eliot with piercing stares. "When I'm Parker you can't touch me until I touch you. If you do you have to sit in the corner and watch but don't get to play because you were bad."

"Yes Parker." Eliot responded almost instantaneously. Rule number two had been that any time a question was asked or a statement about the rules of a scene was made Eliot had to respond verbally or everything stopped.

Parker was staring at Hardison and it took a beat for him to realize that she was waiting for his response.

For this scene he'd agreed to let her be Dom so apparently it meant he'd have to follow the rules Eliot did.

"Yes, Parker."

Parker smiled and nodded, glancing between them with a look on her face like she was trying to decide between stealing Yen and stealing Euros.

In any other moment Hardison would have paused to acknowledge the oddity of knowing Parker's two favorite currencies.

She moved, if moved was even close to the right word for the way that girl slipped between them, placing a hand on Eliot's shoulder with the right amount of pressure to silently tell him to kneel.

And speaking of a word not doing the action justice because one of these days he was going to just ask Eliot if he practiced kneeling or something because there was no way in hell the movement was that fluid naturally.

Any further thoughts were put on hold until further notice when Parker turned her attention to him.

Both Parker and Eliot changed when they were having sex.

No. That wasn't the right word. They were the same people and in a way the sides they showed were still, completely, parts of themselves.

That was it. When they were together like this parts of themselves they normally kept hidden showed through.

With Eliot it was gentleness. Even if the first few turns, back before they'd ever dreamed about it becoming anything more than an answer to boredom and being stuck in a hot motel room together, he'd helped Parker make it quite a tumble through the preverbal hay the closer they got the gentler he became.

Careful not to hurt them, restrained.

Since they'd started this *thing* that had slowly begun to loosen. Only a little, but Hardison already could see hints of something changing behind Eliot's eyes.

With Parker it was curiosity, no… wonder maybe. The way she stepped forward, even now, leaning in close to him before bridging the gap between them with only just her fingers and eyes, flattening her palms on his chest and staring, like she was discovering the contrast between their skin for the first time. Her hands traveled, seeking out secrets still hidden to her like he was some priceless treasure from a museum she'd steal just to hold and study for a moment.

Always to be put back so she could steal it again.

Normally he'd catch her mouth in a kiss, laughing at the face she'd make at the interruption to her studies. He's lain with her in the golden light of early morning, let her discover him as much as she liked. Sometimes he thinks she'd rediscover him like that every time if he let her.

Sometimes when fingers are ghosting over his skin like that he's tempted to.

He wonders if maybe tonight she'll try to rediscover him since he can't move to stop her. The Alec part of his brain tells him he can't let her if she tries. Eliot's kneeling on a hardwood floor and considering the old knee injuries the man probably has it's not responsible for a Dom to keep him in that position while their attention is elsewhere.

Especially since Hardison isn't sure whether or not Eliot would speak up if his knees started to give him trouble.

Parker tweaked him on the nose, a reproachful look on her face. "Stop thinking about Sparky and relax. I'm supposed to take care of things tonight. Remember?"

Hardison nodded and resisted the urge to shift his weight.

He'd found the concept of Parker acting as a Dom hot in the beginning but he was starting to realize there was a reason she was the switch and he was not.

Parker cocked her head to one side, raising an eyebrow and making a face, clearly thinking he had something to say.

"Gibbs" Hardison said finally, using the safeword that they'd agreed to that was for a temporary halt to re-discuss terms of the scene.

"Parker owes me fifteen bucks." Eliot muttered behind him.

Parker gave Eliot a glare. "How do you know it hasn't been five minutes yet."

"What?" Hardison asked, brain not quite following them suddenly breaking out of their respective headspaces.

"Eliot bet it would take you less than five minutes to realize you were a Dom not a switch." Parker explained, glancing past him toward Eliot before looking towards the clock on the nightstand Eliot had probably just pointed to. "You couldn't have had a mental dilemma for just twenty more seconds? You spend longer than that monologing about whether to have orange juice or apple juice with breakfast."

Eliot was chuckling now and Hardison was resisting the urge to facepalm.

"Hey I'm your Dom. You should show me some respect." Hardison said, careful to keep his tone joking.

That inspired a snicker from Parker and a bored "Yes Alec" from Eliot.

"I don't get no respect." Hardison complained. "And I guess this also means I have to sit this one out." He faked a huff, yeah a little disappointed, but his girl Domming Eliot would still be pretty fucking hot to watch.

"No." Parker said with a shake of her head, that pleased-with-herself-and-her-horrible-horrible-crime grin on her face. "You get to try being me."

"Parker… his anatomy doesn't work like yours." Eliot cautioned.

She turned, her face going almost stern as she gave Eliot a single look that made _Hardison_ want to shut up before turning back to him and answering. "You normally Dom Eliot and I come along for the ride and sometimes you tell me what to do and sometimes I tell Eliot to do something and we just… work together. Only instead of me sorta following your lead you follow my lead. Not as a sub, but just you."

Hardison considered it for a moment before nodding. "I can do that."

She grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet, obviously excited.

"Can we get this started already then?" Eliot asked, half teasing tone in his voice. "I'm still on the floor over here."

"Someone's being pushy today." Hardison commented.

Parker took a breath, cracking her neck, seeming to recapture her inner Dom before giving Eliot an overly pleasant smile. "You should be quiet before I gag you." She turned to Hardison with almost the same smile. "We should make out."

Well… this was going to be interesting.

Before any other thought could process Parker had come forward, pulling him closer for a kiss and he let himself react.

Kissing Parker was, in his own words, nice.

Of course almost as soon as they were kissing he realized they weren't just kissing. Parker was using their close proximity to edge him backwards toward the bed, a not entirely too subtle suggestion.

For just a moment he crowded her back, the already limited spaces between them disappearing before he allowed her to half push him back and down onto the bed, only breaking apart during the fall.

One of her hands slid down to his wrist, pulling his hand up to grip a part of their metal headboard. Curious he grabbed hold, shifting to lie flat on his back, fully on the bed when she moved to give him room, taking hold of it with his other hand.

After all, Parker did specify no touching.

He'd see where she took this.

He watched as best as he could from the angle he was in as Parker went back to Eliot, touching his shoulder and telling him to stand, holding onto his arm in case his knees had gone stiff and he had trouble. Hardison mentally nodded his approval.

She led Eliot back to the bed, half instructing him, half prodding and adjusting limbs in silent orders Eliot seemed to understand, getting Eliot onto the bed all but straddling Hardison while still on his hands and knees.

Positioned in a way that had Hardison somewhat concerned with the lack of lube and prep if Eliot tried to sit back.

Had Parker forgotten that certain, rather important, part of anal sex?

"Now you two should make out." Parker stated, running a hand through Eliot's hair while helping to pull it away from his face. "Alright?"

"Can't argue with that." Eliot muttered in response, sounding almost distracted, relaxed, focused on them and yet not nearly as focused as he was on any given moment of any day.

"You heard the girl." Was all Hardison had time to respond before Eliot was kissing him.

It was a cliché, really, but Eliot tasted like whiskey and Hardison was never going to make even a mental statement about it being intoxicating because there were some lines that were just way too old but there was just something there different than anything else he knew.

Hardison gripped the headboard tighter, body singing and yet shouting for him to let go, pull Eliot closer, turn them over and get this moving a little faster because honestly not all parts of him were happy they'd stopped for a little chat before getting down to business and wanted to make up for lost time.

He nearly let go when Eliot jerked slightly, gasping into his mouth, fists clenching in the sheets to either side of Hardison's head. A second later a half stifled moan bubbled up from the hitter's chest and Hardison jerked slightly in response.

Eliot broke the kiss, turning his head to the side, breathing in deeply and sharply. Hardison could feel a shudder run down Eliot spine before Parker's voice broke the silence. "I never said stop you two."

Eliot opened his mouth to respond before taking a sharp raspy breath, a look Hardison was somewhat familiar with running across his face.

Oh. Hardison knew *exactly* what Parker was doing now.

"You heard Parker." Hardison said, letting a little bit of his Alec voice slip in.

Eliot turned to look at him, a 'are you kidding me' look crossing his face for just a second before he took another shaky breath.

Damn girl must have been paying more attention than he thought she'd been.

"Breathe." He said, though he was finding it as much for his own benefit as Eliot's. "Breathe, relax." He turned his attention toward Parker. "Not taking it very slow are you?"

"Quit back seat Doming." Parker chimed back running fingers up the inside of his thigh just to spite him, making him gasp as well. "I'm not going to break our El."

A second later Eliot let out the sort of half choked back moan Hardison knew meant Parker was taking this very fast which was probably a good thing considering Eliot's whole body was trembling from her care and Hardison himself was not going to last this much longer and he was far too dignified to lose it just from this.

Eliot's eyes had closed, practically lost in the feeling of whatever Parker was doing to him.

"Are you ready?" She asked, not specifying who she was asking.

Hardison managed to mutter out a yes and Eliot nodded, still not opening his eyes, taking another couple shallow breaths before managing a "Yeah, I'm good."

The sound of a condom wrapper tearing, long, cold, delicate fingers brushed up his inner thighs, hands moving, guiding. The warmth of Eliot's body hovering over his changed.

Then heat.

Eliot let out a slew of curses, Hardison managed a few vowel sounds, and it would only be much much later that he'd register Parker had actually giggled.

"Follow my pace." Parker instructed somewhere… out there… beyond his body and his closed eyes and himself in Eliot and god he was moving and Hardison was moving with him and Parker was saying something that didn't quite register, her nails just barely grazing his stomach now and then for reasons Hardison didn't give a damn about right then and he couldn't.

Hardison arched his back driving himself up into Eliot mind short circuiting for a moment in a haze of just…

"Good... good."

Parker practically cooing the encouragement and Eliot shifting off of him, weight settling next to him on the bed, pulled him out of the daze.

Slowly Hardison opened his eyes, looking over to where Parker was carding her fingers through Eliot's hair, the hitter's body practically trembling still. The reason becoming obvious when Hardison realized while *he* was acting as just himself Eliot was still acting as a sub and Parker hadn't given him permission to…

Oh…

Well, he supposed Parker might actually want to get in on the action herself.

He sat up, feeling a little loose limbed and needing to clean up…

But that could wait until after part two of the show.

Maybe they would have to actually make a rule number seven.


	9. Softly Through the Night

**Notes: **Title comes from Spirit Boy.

* * *

**Softly Through The Night**

Parker didn't used to like to sleep.

She liked dreaming, though when she was little there were times when she almost got reality and dreams confused and it got a little scary (Parker has always known there was something wrong with her, but she hasn't always been comfortable with it), but she didn't like not being aware.

When you were asleep bad things could happen to you.

And there was always that one terrifying moment when you wake up and you don't know where you are or who you're with and what's going on and even if she had Bunny with her it didn't always make her feel safe.

In her lifetime she's learned to catnap, rarely sleeping deeply (except when upside down and safe), always ready to spring awake and into action when she needed to and slip back to a restful state when she got a chance.

It's started to prove useful now that she and Hardison and Eliot are sleeping together in both the metaphorical and literal sense.

They are a threesome (or the OT3 as Hardison calls them) but they're a threesome of lone wolf personas and even with Hardison as their Dom and everything and even if they *like* doing things together they each have times and things they like doing by themselves and they each have found special times to be just a twosome.

Like how she and Hardison do the dishes together whenever Eliot cooked for them. It started off as a chore but now Hardison washes and she dries and they talk and sometimes Hardison tells her stories about his Nana and after Rand she sometimes *sometimes* might tell him something about her brother, blurting out his favorite color after a story about Nana, or interjecting about how he like the pie Hardison's nana just made. She isn't comfortable with it, and she knows she's not doing it right, but he was family and Hardison is sharing about his family with her and it hurts to remember but it also stops hurting a little more every time.

Eliot and Hardison play pool and watch games and the night after any job Eliot had to fight in Parker waits an extra few hours to give Hardison a chance to deal with it. She wants to be there but she knows Hardison needs that time alone with Eliot. They're fighting it but their dynamic is changing and she knows a part of Hardison hates the fact Eliot is out there getting hurt and they can't stop it from happening.

And she gets her time with Eliot. She helps him with his garden on the roof sometimes, when he isn't retreating there to get away from the chaos of their group and the violence of his life and the world spinning and spinning and spinning around him, and even sometimes when he is. She helps him to weed and water and plant and harvest and they almost never talk more than they need to. She understands his need for silence, for peace, and when they garden together she feels like his silence is embracing her welcoming and protecting and she likes to think he feels the same in her silence.

And sometimes when the sun is bright and the wind is strong and the shadows aren't so thick behind Eliot's eyes he'll break the silence and sing softly to himself.

And to her.

They have those special times but Parker's favorite special times she has with each of her boys comes every day.

There's the one in the morning when Eliot's already up and just about ready to finish making breakfast and Hardison starts to wake up and him waking up wakes her up.

That special time is golden light and long morning shadows, sleepy minded fascination with her pale fingers against his skin, being able to hear his heartbeat curled against his chest, quiet words and fading dreams and a day that's bright no matter what the weather is like when they here the clink of plates on Eliot's kitchen counter that means breakfast is ready and get out of bed to start the day.

Sometimes Parker wonders if Hardison knows that's the second time she wakes up every morning.

The first time Parker wakes up comes roughly ninety minutes after they fall to sleep together.

Hardison probably logically knows Parker wakes up one other time every night. After all, Eliot sleeps in the middle (they say it's just one way they're trying to get him to understand in this room at least they protect him, though Parker thinks they just both want to be able to hold him for what time they can) but is always the first one up and he never wakes Hardison up to get out of bed.

But Hardison probably doesn't know what happens before Parker slides out of bed to let Eliot out every night.

She likes it that way, afterall it's her special time with Eliot. She has to keep these things balanced somehow.

Unless Eliot's been reminded of something that causes a nightmare (she's not thinking about those nights, she is not thinking about those nights) he wakes up exactly ninety minutes after falling to sleep. She's stayed up before to time him. When he first wakes up he jerks slightly, taking a gasp of air like he's breaking the surface after being underwater.

That normally wakes her up, but she doesn't really mind, she's used to waking suddenly and falling back to sleep.

Despite the jerk and gasp Eliot doesn't come fully awake right away. He goes still for a moment, arm wrapped around her tightening slightly as he registers his surroundings and recognizes who he's with before the tension leaves his body and the arm loosens.

That's when she rolls closer to the edge of their huge bed that they don't even need half the time because they sleep in a mass, unconsciously recognizing the safety of the bodies they're pressed against, giving Eliot space to slip out of Hardison's hold.

Sometimes one or both of them sit up, other times they just lay there holding each other in the darkness broken only by the soft orange glow of Chinese lantern styled nightlight on Eliot's dresser (she doesn't actually call it a nightlight out loud. They stopped teasing Eliot about needing a nightlight after the second nightmare that she still wasn't thinking about).

When Eliot's been hurt she'll trace white fingers over black bruises and red cuts marring golden skin, telling herself that he's still here, still hers, and that the skin will go back to gold and he'll get better and nothing will ever take him away from her.

Sometimes when she's scared him he'll run his fingers through her hair and trace the curves of her body and read in it some meaning she's doesn't think she'd understand better if she were normal.

In time they know that the spot they've left will start to grow cold and the absence will start to sink through Hardison's subconscious and he'll start to stir. That will break the spell between them and Parker will sit up and scoot over, letting Eliot slip out of bed, before moving back to take the place Eliot had abandoned, settling into Hardison's embrace and back into sleep.

She likes sleeping now, but she likes waking up even better.


	10. Lay Down a Little While

**Warning: Mentions of past self injury. **

* * *

**Lay Down a Little While**

* * *

Never again.

That was always the first thought that went through Hardison's mind when he finally got Eliot home after a job that required him to fight, argued the hitter through stripping down, and pulled out his Dom voice to get the idiot to just lay still and let Hardison take care of him.

Never again.

And every time the thought that would come to mind as he saw the bruises Eliot had been so good at hiding from them all through the years before this became, well, this, would die before reaching his lips.

He knew that even with their relationship as it was, even if their relationship got as serious as it could become, that would still never be his call and he would never ask Eliot to make that choice.

Instead he sits on the bed besides Eliot, hands traveling over undamaged skin, working to try to ease tension and pain as best he could.

It was always hard to get Eliot to show him his injuries and Eliot always resisted until Hardison started using his Alec voice, handing over control of the situation to his Dom and (finally) willingly letting himself be taken care of.

There were times when Hardison found it a little concerning that Eliot only let himself be taken care of as a sub and in the boundaries of their bedroom but most of the time Hardison was just glad he'd finally been able to convince Eliot to let himself be taken care of at all.

He breathed slow as he let his hands work down Eliot's (mostly) uninjured back, purposefully taking deep and even breaths, knowing Eliot would instinctively match his breathing pattern. He watched Eliot for subtle signs, a double blink, fingers twitching in an aborted clench, a hitch in his breathing. Little tells from a man who's spent the last two decades trying to train his body to not give even unconscious signs of what it was experiencing.

Fingers twitched, body stiffened, and Alec made a soft noise, resting a palm flat against Eliot's shoulder while the other hand worked against the knotted muscles close to bruised skin.

Tension gave way and the hitter relaxed a little further into the bed, his mind slipping just a little further into subspace.

When Alec's done all he can, eased Eliot as much as he can, he sits beside the hitter, hands still skating lightly across gold and mottled skin, studying it, learning and relearning Eliot's body, discovering and memorizing and burning into his mind like a superstition.

If he burns it into his memory now then Eliot will never be taken from him and he'll never be left wishing that he'd taken the time while he could.

Even if each fresh scar makes his stomach clench as he recognizes the ones he knew Eliot had gotten protecting the team and seeing all the ones that he wasn't sure about because Eliot hadn't let them know.

And even if every faded scar told him a story he didn't want in his mind, didn't want to have there waiting to be paired up with the memories of Eliot's nightmares. Of the bitten off screams of pain, the half raging but half broken curses, the desperation in those 'nos' and that one off hand, almost casual, comment Eliot had made that had made Hardison feel ill no matter the joking tone behind it. 'not the first time I've performed under duress'.

Even if the story Eliot told him about the five bullet scars that looked like the oldest serious injuries he has scars for, the story of how a U.S. soldier became a soldier of fortune, freshly baptized by the blood of a black ops unit left to die on a fool's errand, makes his heart burn a little when he sees that Eliot *still* stands every fricken time he hears the national anthem…

These are things he wants to remember just as much as the way Eliot sings to himself when he's cooking breakfast and thinks Parker and Alec are still asleep.

There's a bruise on Eliot's hip tonight. The contrast is the only reason Alec even notices them there. They're faded almost back to unblemished skin, years, decades, old.

Just a few scars, long thin lines on his hip below where even the lowest riding jeans would rest, hidden from sight to anyone not seeing him naked.

At first that thought makes Alec's insides clench again. Theses weren't scars from his life as a hitter, they were scars from his life as a teen at most, maybe younger.

He doesn't want to think why someone might have given a teenage Eliot scars there.

But as he studies the area he realizes there are more than just the few he found. Seven, ten, a dozen, two dozen, more, the thin lines run together and crisscross and he can't even tell if there are really as many a as he thinks he sees or even more.

He blinks, his mind not taking the final step, not being able to process the information he's discovered, not accepting.

Of them all Eliot was the one with the decent childhood. He'd been the all American kid who believed in god and the American way. He'd been a boy scout and a quarterback and loved apple pie and yeah that made it all the more horrible when the world threw it back in his face but…

It had been comforting in a bizarre way to know pain and violence weren't the only things Eliot had ever known, that there was a time in his life when he'd been a normal happy kid.

But this…

He looked up seeing Eliot's eyes on him, his face guarded.

"…Eli…" Alec started before Eliot interrupted him with the word Alec thought he'd never actually hear the hitter use.

"Wheeler."

Before Hardison could even comprehend that Eliot had used his safeword, and that somehow it made weird sense that Eliot would use it not to stop a scene he couldn't take physically but to get out of a situation he couldn't deal with emotionally, Eliot had stood up pulled on a pair of sweats, and slipped out into the living room.

Hardison pulled his own pants back on and quickly followed.

Eliot had retreated to the kitchen, banging around the place in the way he always did when something was bothering him but he could still keep himself in large enough pieces that he didn't need to have it out with a punching bag.

Or a wall.

Suddenly Hardison remembered all the times Eliot had put his fist through the walls of this place, and the few times Hardison had actually seen him do it.

It had always struck him that Eliot never really seemed angry when he did it, or at least the anger he had was controlled.

No the emotion on Eliot's face may have been something Hardison couldn't define but it was never rage.

Then a punch to the wall and that emotion turned into surprise, like Eliot hadn't punched walls a dozen times before and wasn't expecting it to hurt that much.

And then the surprise broke the emotions momentum and it wasn't as strong as before.

Old habits with just a new methodology.

Hardison leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, keeping his body language and tone neutral as he spoke. "If you tell me to drop it I will but… are those what I think they are?"

Eliot stopped banging around but kept his back to Hardison, freezing for just a moment before settling his hands on the counter. Another moment passed before Eliot let out a breath and started to speak, his voice softer than Hardison was used to. "I was fifteen. Good family. Smart. Handsome. Junior Varsity football." His voice softened a little more. "Everything was perfect."

Hardison said nothing, waiting, there was something in there, a hesitation in his words.

A hesitation Hardison had been hearing for a long time.

"What happened?" Hardison asked when the silence stretched.

Some noise that with a little less bitterness might have been considered a laugh escaped Eliot before he said. "Nothing. Everything… Shit happens Hardison. Everyone plays the same games, everyone gets shoved around and the bigger you are the harder you fall. Only difference between the geeks and the popular kids is at the end of the day the jocks are supposed to be smiling and if you don't then, well, must be somethin' wrong with you… It was life." He said simply, so much weight behind just three simple words speaking of stories Hardison knew he'd probably never get to hear. "It was just life."

Hardison crossed the short distance between them, wrapping his arms around the hitter.

He could ask more questions, try to get those stories. In the words unsaid he could see traces of problems Eliot had now, could see the birth of the demons that had chased the hitter through the years.

On some level Hardison knew when this conversation ended Eliot would probably never speak of it so openly again.

But Eliot relaxed into his arms, exhausted body resting against his, head leaning back and Hardison could see the ghost of a boy that died with his unit the day those in power decided it was more important to avoid a scandal than bring a handful of boys home to their families.

He could ask, maybe he even should.

But some ghosts you had to let rest and sometimes you just had to deal with the present.

And for the moment Hardison would just hold him.

His fingers settled low on Eliot's hip, resting on nearly invisible scars that told of a different kind of war.

"I understand." Hardison said simply.

After all, life was life.

No matter the form it left them all with scars.


End file.
